Indigenous Voice, Literary Community Building, and Ancestral Legacy: Meet Shaina A. Nez, Dine College Senior Lecturer

Shaina A. Nez is Táchii’nii born for ásh??hi. She serves Diné College as a Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing and English. She is a doctoral candidate in Justice Studies with the School of Social Transformation and Inquiry at Arizona State University. She earned her MFA degree in Creative Nonfiction from the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) in Santa Fe, New Mexico.?

Her work has appeared in 'A Gathering of Native Voices' (The Massachusetts Review), 'Nonwhite and Women: 131 Micro-Essays on Being in the World,' winner of the 2023 Silver IPPY award in the category of Adult Multicultural Nonfiction, 'Between Pleasure and Pain: An Authentic Voices Anthology' (Sunday Dinner Publishing), and Issue 14: Indigenous Ecopoetry (Green Linden Press). Her forthcoming academic work will appear in "COVID-19 in Indian Country: Native American Memories and Experiences," (Palgrave Macmillan) and "Diné Poetics as Indigenous Theory," an American Indian Studies Series (Michigan State University Press).

She is serving on a five-membered TCU Faculty Advisory Board with the American Indian College Fund (The College Fund). She is a community teaching artist for programs like Emerging Diné Writers Institute (EDWI), Authentic Voices Fellowship by the Women’s National Book Association, and AZ Humanities. She is a recipient of the 2023 Seven Generations Innovators Fellowship with the College Fund.?

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What is your personal/professional story?

My personal and professional journey is two-fold: complementary, utilizing, and understanding siihasin and reflexivity. Before composing this first sentence, I want to express how I reached a point of reflexivity that began with my familial teachings. My maternal and paternal sides practiced a blend of Diné teachings, such as Azee’ Bee Nahághá, and traditional knowledge, such as Sa’ah Naaghai Bik’eh Hozhoo. By observing these practices, I witnessed how my relatives, mainly my elders, practiced K’e (kinship) and the humanity they carried toward their children and grandchildren. Through these observations, my earliest memories, I continue these teachings in my academic and creative practices with a social justice lens. My self-growth would not have flourished if I hadn’t applied to the Navajo Nation Doctoral Cohort, an accelerated program and collaboration between Diné College and Arizona State University, in 2021.?

At the time, I was working as a program manager for the School of Diné Studies and Education (SDSE) for the tribal institution. I have been working with the first tribally-controlled institution since 2019 as a program coordinator for the School of Arts and Humanities (simultaneously balancing thesis work with my Master of Fine Arts program in Creative Writing at IAIA). After two years of serving the BFA students with advising, graduate pathway work, and adjunct teaching in writing, I transitioned to a program manager and adjunct instructor in Teacher Education. My undergraduate background was also in teacher education, so the opportunity to work in this field as an emerging educational leader meant to practice the concept of K’e as leading by example.?

Practicing K’e meant practicing siihasin, the fourth tenet in Sa’ah Naaghai Bik’eh Hozhoo means a stage of reflection. I pivot questions internally: what do I wish I had as a former college student? Once I completed my first year as a doctoral student, I began applying this question to the context of literary community-building reading other minoritized scholars who studied intersectionality, CRT, TribalCrit, BIPOC, and equity and diversity. Streamlining my goals and visions into pluralism: what do I wish, we wish, and they wish the tribal college and/or any institution had to thrive? My forthcoming dissertation title is Emerging BIPOC Women Authors: A Mixed-Methods Examination of Experiences in Career Preparation, Social Capital, and Gender Inequality in Creative Writing Programs.

Being in an accelerated Indigenous doctoral cohort meant balancing my full-time work duties, coursework, and home life. I’m a mother of one daughter, and that also means pursuing a doctoral degree, advancing Native/Indigenous women, mothers, and daughters in literary communities. I thank the fields of creative writing, Indigenous research, and justice, and most of all, my Diné elders/teachers, Edward Bahe Harvey, Leo G. Harvey, Louise Harvey, Marie Jackson-Nez, and Billy Nez, for understanding deeply the human, Native, and Indigenous conditions for our communities to thrive together. “There’s always a way” is a familial saying in honor of my cheii.?

In my second year of the doctoral program, I began applying my coursework in pedagogy and theory to the management of the BFA in Creative Writing Program. I transitioned from program manager/adjunct instructor to a full-time faculty member in Creative Writing and English with the School of Arts and Humanities. My first step into academic teaching led to several collaborations and community building with Indigenous and BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) organizations. I joined the TCU (Tribal Colleges and Universities) Faculty Advisory Board with the American Indian College Fund, led by Heidi Normandin (Program Officer, Faculty Development) and David Sanders (Vice President, Research, Evaluation and Faculty Development). I connected with other BIPOC-women doctors like Farina King, Amanda Tachine, Michelle Hale, Jessica Solyom, and Vera Lopez, who also inspire my community and academic work. I attended my first Native American and Indigenous Studies Association (NAISA) conference in Toronto, Ontario, and the Diné Studies Conference focusing on community-based learning. By networking as a program manager, scholar, and now faculty member, all my contacts became sources for further literary community building. There are many Indigenous-led organizations I do my best to follow and contribute to, not to mention applying for institutional grants provided by organizations designed to build literary, creative, and humanities programs. I’m happy to announce I received two grants, the AZ Humanities mini-grant and the New Mexico Creative Industries Division grant sponsored by the New Mexico Economic Development Department, to assist with community and capacity building in Arts and Humanities, to help with the vision of building Indigenous literary appreciation and community.

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How do you connect with your ancestral roots?

I connect with my roots by praying, singing, reading, and writing in Diné and English bizaad. Praying and singing are more for individualized connection, whereas reading and writing are community-based connections referencing my loved ones. I’m fortunate to have shimá dóó shizhé’é (Violet and Clark Nez) by my side, storytelling and helping me connect with the knowledge said by my elders. I’m grateful my parents are fluent Diné speakers and teach my daughter and nieces the language. As a practicing speaker, I utilize what I know and don’t know in Diné bizaad and creative writing endeavors to actively learn and encourage our practicing speakers to connect to their roots. I wrote a piece for Yellow Medicine Review (Spring 2021 issue) titled “Diné Bizaad meets Bilagaana Bizaad” that reflects on memory about my Shinali asdzaa (Marie), whom I believe told me to become a storyteller. Since then, each anthologized publication references my writing journey toward understanding and appreciating the Diné concept of Hózhó.

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What key moments in your life led you to where you are today?

Many people know or hear me say that I am a daddy’s girl, but many don’t know why. I was born in the late 60’s and little did I know that the 70s would play a huge role in shaping who I am today. In the 70’s my tribe was fighting for their Federal Tribal Recognition.?My dad was and is a fierce warrior for Tribal Sovereignty and at such a young age I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but what I did know is that he would use his voice any chance he could.???

As I got older and understood what this meant, I understood his sacrifice and learned the power of his voice, perseverance, grit, and determination. I saw his courage and strength as a strategic visionary leader - knowing when to use his voice and when not to, to walk quietly, to make a presence, and little did I know that this would shape me and my life forever.

During my professional path, I found my voice. I have learned when to use it and when to take a step back when to walk quietly, when to make a strong presence, and most importantly to never lose my true authentic self and carry that same spirit of respect my father has for Tribal Sovereignty.

As a leader what motivates you during times of adversity?

As an emerging leader, I think about my elders and doctoral concepts of Indigenous research and knowledge when faced with adversity. I think back to the pluralism question asking what do I wish, we wish, and they wish we had to thrive. More importantly, I’ll rephrase the question with a justice lens: what would our world look like if we had everything we needed? I overcame adversity by believing in the dream, vision, and seed that started my work. Constant reflexivity on whether my dream, vision, and seed are worth fighting for (and knowing deep down in my heart if it is worth sharing my passion and having the confidence to believe in it even when no one else does). Thinking back to my roots, the saying “there’s always a way” would surface when I’m in tears revisiting the plan. I’ve been tied down by ‘seniority-leveled’ individuals' advice to rethink my plans and pay my dues. Still, I never once listened to it because I’m unlearning my people-pleasing tendencies. To this day, unlearning people-pleasing is a proactive form of self-care. Leading by example means evaluating the dream, vision, and seed before putting it into fruition. Serving at a tribal institution, I challenge the sometimes stagnant nature with productive and meaningful views of Diné/Indigenous identities, emerging to established positions, surviving to thrive mentalities, Diné philosophies, and belonging/equity/inclusivity. I wonder if my expectations are too high, and I’ll also re-evaluate my passions, prioritizing what needs to be done on my end too. Learning what works and doesn’t or finding common ground helps strategize against adversity based on your foundation. Familial stories are my foundation for remembering who I am, and why this work matters.?

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Where do you find community?

Pursuing a doctoral degree has led me to believe that the literary community is finding me. Before the doctoral program, I graduated with my Master’s in Creative Writing and worked at my alma mater Diné College. I was navigating the publishing world by submitting my nonfictional essays to any and every press or contest that emphasized BIPOC or Indigenous writer needs. I had to swallow many rejections and was later told I was paying my dues as an emerging writer or not to complain on social media about rejection because it wouldn’t look professional. However, I was frustrated at the lack of support for “emerging writers” (meaning someone who has never published a solo full-length manuscript) at all levels. I observed some established writers' attitudes towards newer voices with little appreciation and the nature of publishing as competitive rather than community-based. If it weren’t for those BIPOC-positive organizations who believed in my work (Tin House, VONA, Authentic Voices, to name a few), I wouldn’t have met excellent writers across the globe who also felt these pressures. I decided to take a stand against these mentalities by focusing on emerging BIPOC women authors for my dissertation, further understanding the complexities of publishing by examining these experiences. Soon, literary communities were interested in my work as a doctoral scholar and teaching as a full-time faculty member at Diné College; my dream, vision, and seed brought a reading event titled, Diné nish??? “I Am”: A Native Diaspora Hybrid Reading Event," featuring some of the Creative Writing Program students and a guest reader who shares the same vision in their work (e.g., Amber McCrary, owner of Abalone Mountain Press). The first opportunity for the BFA Creative Writing Program was with the prestigious AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs). AWP Membership Director, Miranda González, sought to bring tribal college writing programs to the next AWP conference in 2025 and we agreed to the opportunity immediately. Additionally, I was asked by Miranda to write a blog feature about my first year teaching at Diné College. Link to article in AWP The Writer's Notebook: https://www.awpwriter.org/magazine_media/writers_notebook . This opportunity has led to outreach by outside MFA programs seeking a memorandum of agreement (MOA) with the tribal institution, possibly creating a pathway for undergraduate students. I’ve learned that networking is an essential aspect of community building. I’m fortunate that more writers, leaders, and organizations are reaching out to learn more about us writers in the Navajo Nation.

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What advice do you have for others who want to break through barriers??

I advise other emerging writers and leaders to ask themselves what their community would look like if they had everything they need and produce a long list of those needs. Next, prioritize the long list into shorter lists and the time frame of building towards a thriving community one step and day at a time. An ally reminded me that money isn’t everything and that only we know our communities enough to bring meaningful solutions and when to ask for help (thank you, De'Amon Harges from The Learning Tree in the Riverside community at Indianapolis, Indiana, for these words of encouragement). Continue to believe in your dream, vision, and seed because it’s the right thing to do.

How can GlobalMindED advance your goals as an inclusive leader?

With the help of GlobalMindED, my dream, vision, and seed to advancing my emerging leadership to building literary communities for change emphasizing K’e-based philanthropy. Money shouldn’t be the only necessity for community-building; we should focus on our time, commitment, and meaningful work that brings us joy and sustenance for philanthropy sharing the work with others. The other day, my father asked me if I was doing okay, and he expressed his worry about work overexertion. I replied I’m taking it daily, watching my people-pleasing, and prioritizing the work that brings me joy. I hope to become a better person than I was yesterday by exercising growth in all of my capacities--we can’t help anyone until we help ourselves. I believe K’e has a way of balancing our responsibilities, well-being, and the joy in what we choose to do.?

One quote from your personal story you would like to highlight.

Shicheii Leo says, “There’s always a way,” I define this to mean: do not give up. Believe in your dream and yourself, and remember your roots (who you are and where you come from) because sometimes we forget that wealth and success are measured differently in our cultures and communities. Continue to stand up for what is right, remember your familial stories, and know that when you feel afraid of (organizing, public speaking, and leading), you are re-imagining yourself to the endless possibilities of contributing to your communities, families, and ancestors for positive change.